


something like a phenomena

by mardia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither one of them is going to say no, because they don't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something like a phenomena

Nyota steps into McCoy's office, the doors sliding shut behind her. McCoy's head is lowered over his desk, and he's reading off a PADD, frowning to himself. When he glances up, his expression clears for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"Christine says your shifted ended almost an hour ago," Nyota responds, and McCoy snorts at this.

"Well, this mountain of paperwork doesn't just magically disappear when my shift ends," McCoy retorts, "—so you can just tell Christine that—"

"She also told me," Nyota says, ignoring him as she walks further into the room, stepping closer to the desk, "--that I should get you out of here, and to use whatever means necessary."

McCoy leans back in his chair, his gaze sharpening as he looks at her. "Oh, did she?" he asks, but he's not really upset, she knows. "By hook or by crook, huh?'

"Pretty much," Nyota says easily, mostly able to ignore the faint fluttering in her stomach as he looks at her, his eyes sharp and hot. It'd be a lie to say that she knew how this was going to go from the moment she walked into this office--but she's not disappointed in the direction this is going. "Come on," she says softly. "I bet you can find something better to do than read PADDs all evening."

McCoy holds her gaze for a second longer, and then his eyes travel up and down her body, leaving her feeling scorched all over. "Yeah," he says softly, as if he's speaking to himself. "You might be right at that."

He rises up from his chair, moving around his desk to approach her. Nyota stands her ground, and doesn't shift her weight from one foot to the other as he stalks--there's really no other word to describe the way he's approaching her--stalks towards her until he's standing right in front of her, their bodies only a few inches apart.

She's waiting for him to touch her, but it's still a surprise somehow when he does, his hand reaching out and resting low on her stomach, his thumb placed right on her bellybutton. The warmth of his hand is seeping through the cloth of her dress uniform, and Nyota's eyes flutter shut for a moment before she opens them again, tilting her chin up as she looks him right in the face.

"Well?" she prods, waiting, wanting him to—

He leans his head in a fraction more, but doesn't kiss her. Instead, the pressure from his hand increases, and she takes a step back, and then another. He moves with her the whole time, his hand still on her stomach, never taking his eyes from her face.

Nyota keeps moving backward, right until her heels and her back hit the door behind her, and she can't move any further. McCoy can, though, and he does, dropping his hand and stepping in even closer until there are millimeters separating their bodies, instead of inches.

He's staring at her mouth now, and all she wants to do is hiss out, _touch me. Come on, just do it, just touch me already--_

And he finally does, taking her wrists in her hands and pinning them above her head, right as he presses his entire body against her, and she inhales sharply, her hips rocking forward—

"Gonna tell me to stop?" McCoy asks, his voice low and thick, wrapping around her.

And this is part of it too, maybe the most important part of all. He's got her pinned against the wall, he's got the advantage in height and weight, but Nyota's been trained in hand to hand combat, and she can hold her own in a fight.

But that's not the point. The point is that he can do this to her, pin her against a wall, hold her wrists in a vice-like grip—he can do all of this, and she won't say no, because she doesn't _want_ to.

"No," Nyota says, and her voice is like a sigh as she hooks her leg around his, trying to pull him in even closer. "I'm not telling you to stop."

He makes a noise, low in his throat, and finally kisses her. It's not a gentle kiss, it's not romantic or sweet, it's hot and harsh and demanding, and Nyota's eyes just flutter shut as she kisses him back, as he nips at her lower lip with his teeth, and heat is pooling in the pit of her stomach, and she's aching between her legs, and God, all she wants is a little more friction and she'll--

She almost sighs in relief against his mouth when he shifts his hands so that her wrists are being held by only one of them, his other hand dropping down to slide under her skirt. She's already wet by the time he starts to feel her up through her underwear, two of his fingers stroking firmly against her clit through the thin, soaked cotton, and she's openly whimpering now, in the back of her throat, her hips pushing forward against his fingers.

It comes as a complete shock when his fingers curl around her underwear and with a sharp tug, actually rip them right off her. She gasps then, can’t help it, and he grins against her mouth before he pulls away to start nipping at her jawline, sucking a bruise right under her ear. His fingers are rough against her clit, and then he’s pushing inside of her with one finger, and then two, and she’s stifling a cry, her hips moving helplessly against his hands, wanting more, wanting everything.

McCoy pulls his mouth away from her skin and looks at her, watches her as she comes undone around his fingers. “Goddammit,” she manages at last through gritted teeth, clenching around his fingers, “just, will you _please_ just—“

He growls, he honestly _growls_ and finally lets her wrists go, and she immediately moves to undo his zipper, pull down his pants. When he pulls his fingers out of her she whimpers at the loss, but he’s wrapping his hands around her hips and saying, “Here we go, darling,” as he lifts her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist as he slides into her with one rough, absolutely perfect movement.

Nyota does cry out then, can’t help herself, and he just shoves his hips forward, slamming into her, and God, they’re in his office in Sickbay, there are at least three nurses and two doctors right outside, never mind the patients, they need to be quiet, they need to—

But it’s very hard to focus on what she should be doing, about anything other than wrapping her legs tight around him and fucking him until neither one of them can remember their own names.

He’s panting in her ear, and when he opens his mouth and starts talking, Nyota clenches around him almost involuntarily. “God, you feel so good, fuck that’s it, c’mon now, I want you to come right here around my cock, where everybody’s outside listening, you can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?” And it’s the tone, even more than the words, that gets to her—that low, rich, dark voice that she so rarely hears outside of moments like this.

And it’s too much, the snap of his hips and the lazy wicked drawl of his voice, and Nyota’s hand curves around the back of his neck, and she comes with a barely stifled cry, her eyes squeezed tight.

When she comes back to herself, McCoy’s thrusting into her harder and harder, and she just rocks forward to meet them, dropping kisses onto his face, watching as he comes into her with a shudder and a muttered curse.

When his eyes flutter open and focus on her, they’re a bright green, and he looks at her for a moment before offering up a crooked little smile. And when she looks at him and says, in all sincerity, “You need to work late more often,” he bursts out into delighted laughter, and she laughs with him.

*

They’ve talked about it, of course. There isn’t a lot that they haven’t talked about by this point, because between McCoy’s divorce and her breakup with Spock (as mature as they’d both been about it, as determined as they’d been not to inflict needless damage, it had still _hurt_ , and in a way that Nyota’s not looking to repeat) both of them were and still are a little gunshy.

So they’d taken it slow. Dinner together in the mess hall, sharing drinks after their shift. Slowly working out what they each wanted, and what the other could give.

McCoy insists that he’s absolutely shit at expressing his emotions, but he’s remarkably easy to read, so it’s not hard, getting him to talk. It helps that he’s willing to try, that when Nyota asks him to sit down and open his mouth, he’ll do it, no matter the grumbling.

If she asks, he’ll tell her everything she wants to know.

They’re in his quarters the first time she tries it, both of them on his bed, fully clothed, trading slow, lingering kisses, her hands trailing down his sides. Nyota pulls away a little bit, just to look at his face, and murmurs softly, “Tell me what you like.”

His eyes open slowly and focus on her. “Right now, I like you,” he says with a soft, heavy-lidded smile, and Nyota smiles back.

“I know _that_ ,” she says, drawing a bigger smile from him, and adds as she nestles a little bit closer, “But I want to know the rest. Tell me.”

She can see the split-second of hesitation on his face, before he leans in and kisses her softly. “It’s a little complicated,” he murmurs against her mouth. He hesitates and then leans in, gently rolling her over and kneeling over her, his hands loosely holding his shoulders.

“Sometimes,” McCoy admits in a low voice, “I like—I like to hold someone down.”

Nyota looks up at him, her breath coming faster from the feel of him, the weight of him on top of her. “Show me,” she says.

McCoy looks down at her, his face full of indecision, and then his hands are tightening on her shoulders, and Nyota sighs a little bit, and tilts her hips up a little further, pressing her body against his.

“Like this,” McCoy says, and his voice has dropped, gone lower. “Sometimes I want this.”

Nyota lifts up her head, until their mouths are almost touching, and breathes out, “And the other times?”

McCoy looks at her for a moment longer, and then in a smooth, quick move, rolls them both over so she’s on top, lying between his legs. “I want this,” he says, looking up at her gravely.

Nyota tilts her head, then slowly, she moves her hands to his shoulders, and presses down, lightly at first and then harder. And even though he’s stronger, even though his shoulders are broader and he’s got the weight and height advantage, even though he could push her off—he doesn’t. Instead, he seems to…relax, his eyes flashing for a moment as his body goes still and pliant beneath hers.

Nyota can feel the smile growing on her face as she assures him, “Yeah. We can work with this.”

And they do. Oh, how they do.

*

Nyota’s gotten very good at tying knots ever since she and McCoy started dating. She checks the ropes again, making sure they aren’t too tight—although she knows that McCoy’s just as good of a judge on that as she is, if not more so.

McCoy’s already panting by the time she draws her hands away from his bound wrists tied to the headboard of the bed, and Nyota smiles as she trails her hand along the inside of his forearm, lightly raking the sensitive skin with her fingernails.  
  
She sits back on her heels for a moment and considers what she wants to do next. What he wants her to do to him next. “You know,” she says musingly, “I never realized how much I was gong to love seeing you like this.”

McCoy’s a little bit breathless, but says, “It’s not so bad from my viewpoint either,” as he looks her up and down in her plain black bra and underwear.

Nyota grins down at him, and then moves to straddle his hips, his erection poking at her thigh. She grinds down against him, and McCoy makes a soft noise in his throat as he pushes up against her.

She could just do this for a while. Rub up against him for whatever friction she can get, drive McCoy crazy in the process—and herself too—listen to his voice crack and spiral out of control.

She wants so _much_ from him—wants his hands on her skin, wants to be pressed close against him, wants to see him lose it and know that it’s all because of her, all for her. And so she slides her hands up his bare chest and leans over, her hair falling over the both of them like a curtain.

Right before she kisses him, she says, “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

His mouth is soft and pliant against hers, and when she pulls away to look at his face, he says softly, “Please.”

Nyota shakes her head. “I think we can get you to beg better than that,” she says, grinding up against him again, in slow deliberate circles that make them both gasp and shiver. “Can’t we?”

He doesn’t disagree. Nyota leans in to kiss him again, and keeps kissing him even as her hand darts lower, trailing down his chest, down his stomach, and reaches to grip his cock firmly. Nyota swallows his gasp, and starts to work his cock, twisting her wrist just so and dragging her thumb over the head, kissing him as he shivers and jerks his hips up into her hand.

“Please,” he murmurs against her lips, his voice quiet and oh so sweet. “Please.”

“Better,” Nyota responds softly. “But we can still do better than that.”

He groans low in his throat when she pulls her hand off him, but his eyes grow wide as she sits up and moves her arms behind her back, unhooking her bra and getting out of it with a shimmy of her shoulders. She’s not quite as graceful when she pulls her underwear off, but McCoy watches her avidly the whole time, his eyes shining and his mouth open as he pants for breath.

Nyota tilts her head and smiles broadly as an idea occurs to her. “Hey,” she says, brightly. “Want to see if you can make me beg first?”

McCoy’s eyebrows shoot up, but after a moment, he smiles at her. “Come over here and we’ll find out.”

“Yes, we will,” Nyota agrees, and promptly straddles his face with her thighs, his mouth so close to her clit, breath fanning hot against her inner thighs.

“Come on,” Nyota says, holding herself up by bracing her hands against the headboard of the bed. “Try and make me beg.”

When his tongue flicks against her clit, Nyota barely manages to bite back her whimper. God, she loves this, loves having his mouth on her, working her open slowly with his tongue, making her shiver and pant and _ache_ for it, until she’s about ready to fly out of her skin.

When she comes against his tongue, it’s with a sharp cry that she doesn’t even bother to hold back.

McCoy’s face and mouth are wet when she finally pulls herself off him, and Nyota wipes at his chin and mouth haphazardly, her thumb dragging across his lower lip. “Please,” he says hoarsely, his beautiful voice gone ragged and his eyes dark with want. “Jesus God, _please_ , I want—“

“Yeah,” Uhura says, leaning down. “I know,” she says, before licking the taste of her out of his mouth.

She quickly moves back down his body and straddles his hips. No more teasing this time, she just guides him inside of her, matching his groan with one of her own as he fills her, stretches her, thick and hot.

McCoy’s biting at his lower lip with his teeth, staring at her like he can’t even believe she’s real, his hips snapping up into her and his arms straining against the ropes. “I want, oh, for fuck’s sake, please just _move_ , you’re driving me out of my _mind_ here—“

“Kind of the whole point,” she points out, breathlessly, balancing herself with a hand low on his chest as she lifts up her hips, and moves just like he asked. She drops her free hand down to rub at her clit as she rides his cock, but she’s already close from the sight of him like this, a sheen of sweat on his bare skin, not even bothering to stifle the helpless noises that are coming out of his mouth, desperate and panting and _hers_ , all hers.

She comes again, clenching around his cock, and he shoves up, once, twice, and comes inside of her with a shout, the flood of him hot and familiar inside of her.

She moves off him, collapsing against his chest, breathless and sweaty and almost…giddy, like she is every time that they do this, every time she ties him to her bed and makes him give her what they both want.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” McCoy says at last, sounding just as winded as she feels, and Uhura laughs brightly as she pushes herself up, and begins to work at undoing the knots that she’d tied so carefully.

Once his hands are free, McCoy pulls her close, his hands warm on her back, kissing her softly. “I don’t know about that,” Uhura says once she’s pulled away, her hand coming up to rest against his cheek. “I’m pretty sure you can keep up with me.”

_We can keep up with each other_ , she thinks but doesn’t say out loud. _That’s the whole point._ But she doesn’t need to say it, Nyota knows, because McCoy already knows it without having to be told.


End file.
